


Anti-Clockwise

by KptnSkunk



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Canon-Typical Violence, Conflict, Confrontations, Conspiracy, Dubious Consent, Father-Son Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Fluff and Angst, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Foot Massage, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Spanking, Power Dynamics, Pseudoscience, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Scars, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Spanking, Stem Cell Technology, Sweat, Threats of Violence, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29789298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KptnSkunk/pseuds/KptnSkunk
Summary: As far as Shaun is concerned - he is the Institute. Any threat to the Institute is a threat to Father. Nate Kaplan threatens to undo all the Institute has worked for ever since the bombs fell in the name of some holier-than-thou crusade he adopted while traveling the Wasteland.Father is certain he can convince Nate that the Institute is mankind's only hope. And if that doesn't work, well, Shaun has no qualms keeping his own father on a tight leash.
Relationships: Father | Shaun/Male Sole Survivor
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! So, I recently published this fic under the name 'Broken Clocks', but I was really unhappy with how it turned out so I'm rewriting it. Thankfully I haven't gotten too far into the story so it wasn't much of a big deal. I'm getting back into writing after a long break so I'm trying to get the hang of it. I'd like to do this story justice and make it an entertaining, enjoyable read. 
> 
> Now, this fic is heavily centered around an incestuous relationship between father and son, if that isn't your thing turn back now. You have been warned. I do not condone this behavior in real life. Nor do I condone any other behavior in this fic that is manipulative or malicious. 
> 
> If that doesn't bother you, then read away.
> 
> You freak.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment or a kudos! Or, you know, both.

The Institute was a clockwork mechanism, each operation and their designated operators had their place in securing the Institute’s success, both in its long-term evolution and its endgame to save humanity.

Father had been a part of the Institute possibly longer than any other living scientist in the organization to date. While the Institute was definitely far safer than any conceivable place above ground, science has its own hazards. Experimental treatments, malfunctioning machinery, and even stress had all been death’s guises as it prowled the hallowed halls of the Institute.

Still, these scientists – generations past their predecessors – all sought to build on, or even outdo, their ancestors, who had taken refuge below the ground when the bombs lay waste to all they had known.

It was incredibly humbling to Father, who stood facing the Institute’s central landing from the boardroom window. Father remembered when he was but a boy, and trees in the Institute had been a rarity, confined to the stairwells circling the Institute. Over time, those specimens were joined by the groves surrounding the elevator set in the center of cascading falls of clean, pure water.

Despite all he had read and observed, the wasteland was still a mystery to Father – though he was forever grateful that he was spared from its atrocities; from irradiated water to deathclaws. Growing up in the Institute, Father was given the opportunity to live a life not too dissimilar from the one he imagined he might have lived, had man exercised a little more self-discipline when it came to the detonation of nuclear bombs.

Father was no mere scientist; he was the Director of the Institute. There had been an injustice in his induction into the Institute, of that there can be no doubt. Little Shaun Kaplan had been snatched from the arms of his suspended mother – who an Institute mercenary had shot dead – and whisked underground. Before he had been able to walk, his DNA was harvested, and harnessed into the Institute’s greatest accomplishment – the Gen 3 synths.

No longer were the synths over-glorified Mr. Handy’s, thanks to Father’s un-corrupted DNA, they had been transmuted into fully functional replicas of man, the greatest machine ever created. 

The Institute had dubbed young Shaun ‘Father’. As a child, he wanted for very little. In fact, Institute scientists, who were usually dismissive of children, took time of their schedules to talk to him and patiently explained to him their duties. They were his mentors, his only family.

Father had felt as if he were at a disadvantage in his youth, he hadn’t been born into science, and it hadn’t always come easy to him. Records indicated that his mother, Nora Kaplan, had been a lawyer, and his father, Nate Kaplan, had been a soldier. Not a scientific bone in their bodies.

Some nights, Father found himself wondering about his biological parents. What would it have been like, had they raised him instead of the Institute? How would he have turned out? What would it have been like had they joined the Institute alongside him? Would they be proud of him?

Sometimes, he wondered what it would have been to feel their love for him.

The Institute, in spite of the horribly misinformed rumors topside, was not a cult of sociopathic scientists void of want, desire, and love.

Father saw love in the Institute every day. He saw how the parents of the Institute watched their children play, scolding them and calling out for them to slow down in case they injured themselves.

Humanity was the Institute’s prerogative, and it was precisely these bonds – particularly those of family and blood – that segregated the synths from the humans. That type of love is primal, naturally embedded into our very DNA. Try as you might, those bonds can never truly be broken.

Romantic love was of little interest to Father. He wasn’t cynical, hadn’t been burned in the past, nothing of the sort. Father had never pursued anything but excellence, and romantic love was anything but. Sexual attraction through rose-tinted lenses, and as fickle as a child. Perfectly acceptable for reproductive purposes, but couldn’t hold a candle to the unconditional love that came with family.

It had been the only thing Father had ever wanted for, and he loathed himself for it. For all he had accomplished, the power he had consolidated, and the knowledge he acquired, he still felt as though he were lacking something.

Perhaps it was this intrusive feeling of loss that led father into the development of a child synth. The Institute had never done it before, there had been no need. It seemed only natural to design the synth after himself, particularly if he was going to care for it one day. But at the end of the day, however convincing the child may be, it would still be a synth.

Father knew that in Vault 111, the other half of his biological equation slumbered in cryogenic stasis. Perfectly preserved from the day he had escaped to the facility with his now late wife and then infant son. It had been a foolish idea to let him out, in hindsight. Overly sentimental and unlike Father.

He had no quarrels with emotion, after all, they reminded him he was human. But sentimentality and uncertainty often went hand in hand, and though it killed him to admit it, Father was a little too old for new emotional frontiers.

When Father had Nate Kaplan released from the vault, he tried to tell himself that it was an experiment. Nate Kaplan had been suspended since before the war, and had no knowledge of the wasteland. Would he adapt to the Commonwealth, in its current state? Or would it eat him up alive? However he tried to justify the decision, Father knew what the real question of this little experiment had been:

_Would he try to find me?_

Since Nate’s release, Father threw himself into his work. The child synth program was an unexpected comfort while he waited on Justin Ayo to deliver Watcher reports of the vault dweller.

The first real report had almost made Father laugh, and Father hadn’t laughed in years.

‘Have you been drinking, Justin?’ he had asked the Head of the SRB, ‘I think Holdren or Binet may be more appreciative of your comedy routine than I.’

‘Sober as a judge, Father, your subject appears to have taken over the Minutemen. Watcher surveillance showed him waving a Minuteman flag over the Castle.’

‘Remarkable,’ Father breathed out, ‘Thank you, Justin, you’re dismissed.’

Nothing in Vault-Tec’s records had indicated that Nate Kaplan had been capable of performing such feats. He held an ordinary rank in the US military, came from a middle-class background, and had a bachelors in history. Yet, a mere three months after exiting Vault 111 he was leading one of the Commonwealth’s most notable factions. Mind you, the Minutemen had suffered major backlash following the attack on Quincy, but with Nate Kaplan on their side, the Minutemen had reclaimed their former headquarters and had five or six settlements supporting their cause.

Time passed, and the accomplishments kept coming through. Nate had cleared Quincy of any remaining Gunners, procured the cure for a deadly virus that had infected a young boy in Vault 81, aided a Brotherhood of Steel recon squad by clearing Cambridge of feral ghouls, and made his mark in the Railroad as a Heavy, assuming the rumors were to be believed.

Father had been a little irked, though he really shouldn’t have been. Many above ground in the Commonwealth misunderstood the Institute, why would Nate Kaplan be any different? Yet the idea of his father prancing around the Commonwealth publicly denouncing the Institute with the Brotherhood and “liberating” synths for the Railroad made Father’s blood pressure skyrocket.

An interesting reaction, another note for the logs.

One night, Father had been sprawled out in his bed, allowing his mind to run wild and tire itself out so he could sleep dreamlessly. A chime from his terminal downstairs interrupted this ritual, and so he lifted himself from his bed and made his way down to his desk.

An internal mail had been sent to him, odd considering it had been 11.42 PM, and the latest internal mails were often sent out at 6.30 PM.

The mail had been sent from Justin Ayo, no formalities, no apologies, nothing. All it read was:

**Subject has eliminated Conrad Kellogg.**

Father reread the mail at least seven times, and pinched himself to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep. His father, a pre-war soldier who had spent less than in a year in a world he knew nothing about had taken down the Commonwealth’s most dangerous mercenary. A man who was known for leaving no evidence behind.

Father contemplated his response, before settling on:

**Good riddance.**

Father hadn’t slept much that night.

Just a month later, word had spread that a courser had been killed at GreeneTech Genetics. There had been a bit of a panic concerning the safety of the Institute, but Father had reassured his people that there was nothing to worry about and that it was all a part of his plan to secure the Institute’s future and longevity, as he had inadvertently as a child. No one argued, and no one could anyways.

The Institute was Father’s show.

Peering down at his little kingdom from the boardroom window, Father allowed himself to puff his chest proudly. Surely his father would see that the Institute was mankind’s best bet at rising from the fallout. With a little time and effort, he was confident that Nate would share in Father’s vision for the future, and continue his legacy.

‘Father?’

Father turned his head, ‘Allie, good morning.’

‘Good morning, sir,’ chirped Allie Filmore, Chief Engineer and Head of Facilities, ‘I don’t mean to impose, but Watchers picked up intel that a molecular relay device has been built at Boston Airport. I imagine your guest will be arriving at any time.’

There were butterflies in Father’s stomach, and suddenly he would have given anything short of the Institute itself for a glass of bourbon, ‘I see Virgil’s been busy sharing Institute secrets out in the Commonwealth.’

‘Unfortunate, he was incredibly gifted scientist,’ Allie sighed, genuinely disappointed.

‘Yes, he was. Well, his insolence is our gain I suppose. Allie, I need you to inform the other directorates that our guest is set to arrive at any second. Sensitive research and need-to-know projects are to be shelved immediately. Considering our guest’s possible involvement with the Railroad, it wouldn’t be prudent to have anything that could compromise us out in the open. Have the synths clean all the facilities thoroughly, and make sure that every single scientist here is presentable. We want to make a good impression.’

‘Of course, Father. We won’t let you down.’

‘Oh, and Allie?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘While I appreciate the report, Justin usually relays Watcher intel to me. Why hasn’t he delivered the news to me himself?’

Allie licked her lips, a nervous tick not many in the Institute were privy to. But Father had always been an incredibly observational man.

‘I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to talk on behalf of Justin, perhaps you should ask him.’

‘If I wanted to, I would. I’m asking you, Allie,’ said Father sternly.

Allie inhaled sharply, and straightened her dress, ‘If I’m being one-hundred per cent honest, Father, Justin isn’t too fond of this… endeavor. He’s being a bit dramatic, suggesting that you’ve gone soft,’ Allie winced, anticipating the worst, but resumed when Father remained silent, ‘He’s expressed concern over your lack of a reaction towards your guest’s disruptive behavior.’

‘Has he now? And what do you think?’

‘We have known you all our lives, Father. The Institute – Justin included – owes you a great debt that cannot be repaid. Given your unusual entry into the Institute, you have shown nothing but dedication to our case, and now it is your vision that guides us. We don’t doubt you in the least, Father,’ a sincere, heartfelt answer. A little too flattering for Father’s tastes, but Allie wasn’t one for embellishment or exaggeration – those were more Justin’s speed.

Allie could be trusted. Justin, on the other hand, was a just another bird whose feathers Father needed to clip before he flew into the sun.

‘You’re too kind, Allie, be sure to save some of that kindness for our guest.’

‘Thank you, Father. If you’ll excuse me.’

Father squared his shoulders and made his way out of the boardroom, he turned back for a moment to spare a glance at the world his predecessors created from outside the boardroom window.

It was a world he had built upon, and one he hoped his father would continue to build upon once his own hourglass ran out.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father's meets the man who might have raised him in another life.

Father’s showers always started hot. Steam would rise and swallow his surroundings up in distorted sheets of mist, and Father’s breaths would become labored. In this almost meditative practice, Father received revelations. There was nothing supernatural or divine to this experience, of course, he was simply clearing his mind so that he could strategize with clarity.

Though it pained him to admit it, Father was a little fearful of his guest. Nate Kaplan had ties to both the Railroad and the Brotherhood of Steel – organizations with public vendettas against the Institute and its interests, and the former continued to affect their daily operations. Father reckoned that whatever self-righteous crusade the pre-war soldier had adopted during his time in the Commonwealth wouldn’t dissipate instantaneously, even under the emotional strain that would undoubtedly accompany being reunited with his long-lost son.

Father had no doubts that their reunion would be emotional, at least on Nate’s side, he spared no alliance and braved every horror and trial that the Commonwealth had thrown his way just to find his son. Father admired his determination.

But Father was more practical than most. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, Father could groom the perfect successor to the Institute, and learn a little more about himself in the process. To some, his sentiments may sound callous, Father knew as much – but Nate Kaplan hadn’t raised Father. The Institute had. Nate and Nora Kaplan gave Father life, but the Institute gave him purpose.

When he was but a naïve young boy, Father had dreamed of a family. Children were predisposed to such whimsy after all, an inevitable byproduct of their wild imaginations and limitless curiosity. Maturity bred practicality, Father’s curiosity turned to determination, and his imagination into vision.

The harsh truth was Father didn’t owe Nate Kaplan anything, though he pitied the man a little seeing as his expedition wouldn’t end the way he expected it to. But if Nate loved Father as much as much as his actions suggested, Father expected the soldier would come to love the Institute for not only protecting his son, but for enrichening his life in ways Nate and Nora never could.

After stewing in the humidity for as long as he thought he could get away with, father jolted himself back into lucidity with a blast of the coldest water temperature he could handle. He grabbed a nearby towel, blotted himself dry, then tied the towel around his waist.

A silver glint caught Father’s eyes as he emerged from his bathroom, and he padded his way towards its source.

Father always kept his bar cabinet fully stocked. A generous amount of bourbon was poured into his favorite crystal tumbler, of which he had only one another, and he knocked the drink back in no more than two swigs. A little liquid courage went a long way, in Father’s experience.

Standing in the mirror, Father took a moment to let the towel drop, and assessed his reflection in the glass. Not bad for a man of his age – or any age really.

Father had always enjoyed his body. Sexual relations weren’t even on Father’s radar, in the Institute they were often reserved for those in relationships, or those having affairs, and Father’s opinion of romantic love would have made him an unsuitable lover. Though he enjoyed exploring himself, touching himself as often as he could to satiate some of his baser needs.

As for his figure, Father had never been in the position where he had to deprive himself of food or drink – especially drink.

Overall, Father had perfect health for most of his life. However, years of sleep deprivation, demanding scientific ventures, and his rigorous climb to the peak of the Institute’s chain of command had taken their toll.

Blood cancer – laughable, when Father really considered it. A blood sample had played its part in securing his ascension to the Institute’s throne, and another had been his death sentence.

Death itself had never really frightened Father, not even as a child.

It angered him. It was a cosmic challenge to his potential, and there wasn’t a challenge a Father hadn’t been able to rise to throughout his entire life.

Father had undergone every single conceivable treatment that the Institute could provide, but to no avail. The Institute, in spite of all it had accomplished in over a century, had its limits.

Conrad Kellogg had cheated death for as long as he could – but pain inhibitors and similar technology had robbed the man of the very humbling experiences that made one human. Besides, Father wouldn’t give Kellogg the time of day by following in his path.

Perhaps for the first time in Father’s life, he had felt vulnerable. Mortal.

Releasing his father from Vault 111 hadn’t been an entirely clinical decision, Father was aware of that. Some tiny piece of his former self wanted to meet his father – assuming he would survive the wasteland.

As Father had been buttoning up his shirt, he wondered if Nate Kaplan had the same thick masses of hair Father had below his collar bone, narrowing from the butterfly-like formation on his chest into a trail down his abdomen, curling slightly in tufts just below his navel and continuing south of his anatomical border. Would Nate Kaplan share his large hands and feet? Were Father’s hazel eyes something he inherited from his mother, or his father? What about their personalities? Did they share any personality traits? Watcher surveillance seemed to indicate that Nate had a slightly inquisitive side to him – was Father’s insatiable curiosity influenced by genetics?

All that would have to wait, for as Father sat at his desk, fully dressed and contemplating whether or not he should pour himself another drink, a ping from his terminal alerted him to the fact that his guest of honor had relayed into the Institute.

Showtime.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose, and inhaled deeply. He reached out to the microphone he used to broadcast announcements over the Institute’s intercom, flicked the switch on, and selected his first words to his father carefully.

‘Hello,’ he said, a little timidly and very unlike himself. Father steadied his voice, and continued, ‘I wondered if you might make it here, you’re quite resourceful.’

It was true. Knowing nothing of the post-nuclear world he had been thrust into, Nate Kaplan managed to make a name for himself – he had thrived in the wasteland in a matter of months, ascending various ranks within the few organizations operating in what was left of Massachusetts.

‘I am known as Father; the Institute is under my guidance. I know why you’re here.’

_‘You’re here for me,’_ thought Father _._ He inputted a command line into his terminal, then said, ‘I’d like to discuss things with you, face-to-face. Please, step into the elevator.

‘Welcome to the Institute. This is the reality of the Institute. This place, these people, the work we do. For over a hundred years, we've dedicated ourselves to humanity's survival. I'd like to talk to you about what _we_ can do... for everyone.’

As frightening as it was for Father to allow the stranger into the Institute, he also felt a sense of excitement at what they could achieve together. Nate Kaplan was resourceful, quick to adapt, and intelligent – he was no scientist, but he had real world experiences, and that expertise under the guidance of Father’s vision could make the pair of them a force to be reckoned with both within the Institute, and beyond. But Father was getting ahead of himself.

‘But that can wait. You are here for a specific, very personal reason. You are here for your son.’

In his excitement, Father almost tipped his chair back rising out of his seat. He hoped his cheeks weren’t flushed, and he scoffed at himself for acting like a child.

He heard the soft thrum of the elevator doors on the other side of his quarters opening, and the footsteps that followed. A muffled conversation took place on the other side of the door. Father suspected Nate had found his pet project.

Father rolled his shoulders and made his way to the door, then stood still for a while.

It wasn’t until the situation appeared to grow heated that Father decided to intervene.

‘Father? Father! Help me!’

The doors slid open and Father stepped through. Nate didn’t acknowledge him, his attention directed solely at what he believed to be his son.

Father tried not to look at Nate either, not yet. He braced himself, then said, ‘Shaun... S9-23 Recall Code Cirrus.’

The synth slumped over as though a marionette whose strings had been cut.

‘Fascinating.... but disappointing. The child's responses were not at all what I anticipated. He's a prototype, you understand. We're only just now beginning to explore the effects of extreme emotional stimuli,’ Father turned to look upon his latest specimen.

The man was disheveled and dirty – not that he could have helped it if he had wanted to, hygiene wasn’t a common commodity in the wastes. Sweat soaked strands of chestnut hair clung to his forehead, and his face was unshaven. He bared his teeth, unusually white for a wastelander, at father in a vicious snarl, boring his eyes into Father’s. They were hazel, just like Father’s.

Interestingly, Nate was no longer dressed in the Vault 111 jumpsuit, opting instead to dress in Kellogg’s old rags.

_‘A much better fit on him than it ever was on that bloodthirsty imp,’_ thought Father.

Nate’s chest, slightly exposed where a few buttons on Kellog’s shirt had been left undone, was covered in hair, except where two long slashes had left scars just over the man’s heart.

Father had to admit, Nate was a roguishly good-looking man. A rube by the Institute’s standards, sure, but his appearance was oddly pleasing. It evoked an uncomfortable feeling in Father, one he repressed immediately before Nate had to chance to tear his head off.

‘Please try and keep an open mind. I recognize that you are emotional, and that your journey here has been fraught with challenges,’ Father spoke softly, Let's start anew. I am Father. Welcome to the Institute.’

‘Give me Shaun. The real Shaun. Right now!’ Nate bellowed, and Father did his best not to wince.

‘I know, I know,’ Father murmured, ‘You've gone to such lengths to find him. I promised answers, and answers you shall have. But... I need you to realize that this... situation... is far more complicated than you could have imagined. You have traveled very far, and suffered a great deal, to find your son. Well, your tenacity and dedication have been rewarded.

‘It's good to finally meet you, after all this time,’ Father held a hand up to his heart, which pumped erratically behind his ribcage, ‘It's me. I am Shaun. I am... your son.’

There was a long, pregnant pause, and Nate’s eyes never left Father’s, his face twitched a little as though suppressing a laugh, but his hardened expression began to falter, ‘No, you’re –‘ Nate spoke under his breath, his eyes never leaving Father’s. Nate walked towards Father, who tried not to take an uncertain step backwards.

Family or not, he had little knowledge who this man was, but he did know what he was capable of.

There was no violence, though. Not even anger. The man simply sized Father up, his chapped lips trembling, and his eyes wide and glistening, ‘It's really you... Shaun… After all this time,’ he whispered.

‘Yes, it's true,’ came Father’s quiet response.

Nate shook his head, ‘How... is that even possible?’

‘In the Vault, you had no concept of the passage of time. You were released from your pod, and went searching for the son you'd lost. But then you learned that your son was no longer an infant, but a 10 year old boy. You believed that ten years had passed.

Is it really so hard to accept that it was not ten, but sixty years? That is the reality. And here I am. Raised by the Institute, and now its leader.’

For Father’s entire life, he had been surrounded by brilliant scientists who knew their own brilliance. They wore their brilliance like a badge, Institute scientists carried themselves with pride, their eyes bright and curious. Their expressions were formulaic, ranging from quizzical, annoyed, determined, and finally, triumphant.

When Father met Nate, he saw an expression he wasn’t all that familiar with. He saw the expression of a broken man. It was incredibly pitiful, though not unexpected. Father could only imagine how Nate must have felt, hearing that the infant son who had been snatched from him was now the leader of the very organization he had been waging war against on the surface.

Father was also a little smug at how much of an emotional impact he had over the man. There was a softness to Nate’s gaze, one Father had definitely seen around the Institute – often in stolen glances.

Father saw love in Nate Kaplan’s eyes.

‘It... It wasn't right, what they did. Taking you from me like that,’ the soldier sounded absolutely crestfallen, and Father couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

‘To you, that would certainly seem true. But to the Institute... It made all the sense in the world,’ said Father apologetically, he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, ‘At that time, the year 2227, the Institute had made great strides in synth production. But it was never enough. Scientific curiosity, and the goal of perfection, drove them ever onward. What they wanted was... the perfect machine. So they followed the best example thus far - the human being. Walking, talking, fully articulate... Capable of anything.’

‘So, the weird science experiments needed specimens. That's why they took you.’

Father nodded.

Nate swallowed, ‘But... Director? Why you?’

‘I was the most qualified for the position, obviously. I've lived my life within these walls, dedicating to science like every other member of the Institute. My hard work has paid off,’ Father said proudly.

Father couldn’t help but notice Nate still look apprehensive, and so he added, ‘Ultimately the Commonwealth has nothing to fear from us. Whatever you've seen or heard, I know I can convince you of that. Just... give me time.’

Nate stared at him, his hazel eyes boring into Father’s, and his expression unreadable, ‘What about Kellogg?’

Father should have seen that coming. He himself had never made an effort to hide his disgust of Kellogg, and contrary to popular opinion his hatred of Kellogg had nothing to do with the mercenary killing his mother. Kellogg hadn’t been worthy of the Institute, he only benefited the Institute to serve his own purposes, riches, an extended lifespan. Kellogg was the antithesis of what a member of the Institute should be. 

‘Kellogg... He was an Institute asset long before I arrived here. He never failed the Institute, but his cruelty became more apparent with every completed objective,’ Father sneered, ‘I won't lie: it's no coincidence your path crossed his. It seemed a fitting way to allow you... us... to have some amount of revenge,’ a lie, but Father imagined Nate would find it comforting,

‘Your mother,’ Nate sighed, ‘She never got to see you grow up.’

‘Yes, what happened to her was...’

Father honestly struggled to find the words the convey how he felt without coming off as cruel. In truth, Father didn’t care. Of course, that wasn’t what Father told Nate, instead he said, ‘I've gone over the records of the incident, of course. It seems her death was an unfortunate bit of collateral damage.’

‘Collateral damage? Is that all she was to you?’ Nate seemed to border on hysterics, and Father found the display uncouth.

‘I forget that it's been such a short time for you,’ Father mused aloud, ‘I don't have any direct memories, and I've had my entire life to cope with the loss. Has it always been easy? Of course not. But I've done my best to move on and live my life. I accepted my situation and that was that.’

Nate regarded Father with a look that made Father want to grab him by the scruff of his neck and wipe that look off of his brutish face. It was a pitying look, and Father found it ironic that the man who had been living as a scavenger had the gall to look at the head of the organization that had the entire Commonwealth shaking in their poorly-stitched-together boots with pity.

Father centered himself mentally. He reminded himself of what this opportunity meant, and that Nate Kaplan wasn’t a scientist – he wasn’t immune to whatever propaganda the Commonwealth had fed him ever since he had awoken from his cryogenic slumber, ‘The Institute is on the verge of some important breakthroughs. Your presence would be... appreciated as we approach them. I've been a part of something amazing here. I've helped to build a life for myself and the people of the Institute, and now, after all these years, you have an opportunity to help with that. Doesn't that intrigue you? Isn't that what you want?’

Nate shifted slightly, and Father noted that he looked torn.

Good. Conflict was the heart of informed decision making, if Nate was feeling conflicted that meant that he was slowly chipping away at the former impression he held of the Institute. Father smiled at him encouragingly – he doubted a smile from an elderly man had the same effect as that of a child’s, but he hoped Nate could take the bait.

The soldier ran a hand through his hair, ‘Maybe... I... I don't know. This is so much to take in.’

That wasn’t a no, ‘I know, and I am sorry. You have been through so much in such a short time. The Institute can provide a better life than anything above ground Just... give it time. Give the Institute a chance… give _me_ a chance.’

Father knew playing to Nate’s sentimentality would prove effective, the soldier’s walls came crumbling down. Father was surprised at how much younger he looked when he smiled, there was something akin to acceptance in his eyes, ‘I’m not making any promises yet, but I want this to work, Shaun, I really do.’

‘Baby steps then,’ Father said, a little carelessly considering time wasn’t a luxury he figured he would have for much longer, ‘The Institute is now your home as much as it is mine. Please, take some time and get to know it. Meet the people you'll be working with. In the meantime, I’ll have quarters prepared for you.’

For a moment, Nate looked as though he might try to argue, but he relented. Though his eyes left Father’s to glance at the synth child, still slumped over in its terrarium, ‘Shaun, about this synth…’

‘Yes, it's pushed our technology to the limit. We've gained some valuable insights in terms of both hardware and software. 'll make sure it's brought back online in the near future. You'll have an opportunity to interact with him further,’ he was hoping that promise might incentivize his father to remain with the Institute.

Father contemplated his next words very carefully before asked Nate a question he was both anxious and exited to ask, ‘But... I'll admit, I'm curious. As a parent looking for his child, looking for the younger version of me... What do you think? Do you think you could love him? Like you would a real boy?’

Nate’s eyes flicked back to Father, and Father suddenly felt very self-conscious, ‘I wouldn't claim to know everything that you're feeling, but... If in some small way the boy's presence can help, I hope you'll keep an open mind.’

‘I could love him, definitely, but Shaun? I found you, finally, after all this time. I don’t care that you’re older than I expected – hell, that you’re older than me – you’ll never stop being my little boy, and I love you. Now and forever.’

Father was speechless. Never in his life had Father been on the receiving end of such emotionally charged words The intensity with which Nate spoke convinced Father that he was telling the truth, and that both excited Father, and concerned him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here we are, chapter two. Things are going to pick up in the next chapter, but I felt like I had to write this with the dialogue and Father's thoughts to give you a look into how my interpretation of Father thinks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave a kudos or a comment!


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